I opened my mouth to explain, but no words came out. How could I explain that my daughter, my sweet little Debbie, had somehow brought Trevor back to consciousness with nothing more than a song and a child’s touch? I squeezed Debbie’s hand, as if to anchor myself in reality.

Dr. Preston approached Trevor’s bed, checking the monitors, examining the patient with the precision and disbelief of a seasoned professional confronted with the miraculous. “This is extraordinary,” he murmured. Turning to me, his stern expression softened slightly. “Your daughter… she was in here?”

I nodded, still trying to process everything. “She… she likes to sing. I didn’t expect—” I stammered.